Loitered away, a great part of my Time, as I most commonly do in vacation Time. I intend however to read considerable, before I return to College. Mr. Shaw and his Lady, this morning, left us to return homeward. Was down in my father's library part of the afternoon. The weather begins to be quite cold, and the leaves are all falling from the trees.

Spent the day, in alternately reading, writing, walking, and playing. This is dull life, and convinces me, how grossly the whole herd of novel and romance writers, err, in trumping up, a Country life. Let them say what they will: the most proper situation for man, is that which calls forth the exertion of faculties, and gives play to his passions. A negative kind of happiness, like that of the brutes, may be enjoyed in the Country, but the absence of pain or anxiety is not sufficient for a man of sensibility. The passions of the mind, are what chiefly distinguish us from the brute creation, and as a country life tends to diminish their influence, it brings us nearer a par with them, and is therefore derogatory to the dignity of human nature.

My two brothers were gone all the morning on a gunning party. My cousin and I went, in the afternoon, but we were unsuccessful. All kinds of game are scarce here, as there are several persons in the town that persecute the animals so much, that they have driven them all away.

Mr. Thaxter stop'd about half an hour, this morning, on his return from Hingham, where he has been this week. In the afternoon I went with my cousin, and drank tea, at my uncle Quincy's. Just after we return'd, Leonard White and his Sister came in. Mr. and Mrs. Cranch arrived about an hour after. Leonard brought me a letter.1